Pieces of You
by TessaStarDean
Summary: Cameron gets some devastating news....complete as it stands, but it might call for a sequel further down the road.


"Both of you. My office. Now."

"But Mom!" House whined. "You said we could play until dinner!"

Cuddy stopped and turned around, fixing them with such a glare that House and Wilson promptly followed her when she continued walking to her office. There was a tension in the set of her shoulders that told Wilson something serious was going on. But he also knew that that wouldn't stop House from being an ass.

"Shut the door."

Wilson complied before moving to stand in front of her desk. House leaned heavily on his cane, a curious expression on our face.

"Is it wild naked orgy time?" he asked seriously.

"First you call her 'Mom' and now you're suggesting sex?" Wilson asked incredulously. "Talk about an Oedipus complex!"

"You're just jealous –"

"SHUT UP!" Cuddy suddenly yelled.

They stopped and stared at her, surprised to see tears in her eyes and a tremor in her hands.

"Just…just shut up," she repeated, her voice shaking.

Wilson stepped forward and reached out a hand.

"Lisa, are you alright?"

She nervously straightened her skirt before sitting down, her eyes locked on the papers on her desk.

"There was an accident," she said quietly.

"What kind of accident?" House asked bluntly as he and Wilson sat down.

"Chase was hit by a drunk driver."

"Oh my God," Wilson breathed. "Is he alright?"

Cuddy took a deep breath, the tears running down her face.

"He's dead," she whispered.

The news hit them like a lead pipe. Wilson looked around the room in shock, his brain unable to grasp any coherent thoughts. House stared down at the floor, a thoughtful but pained look on his face.

"Was it…did he suffer?" Wilson asked in a small voice.

Cuddy shook her head. "The paramedics said it was instantaneous. They said there was almost nothing left of the car."

House stood up suddenly.

"I have to go tell Cameron."

"No!"

House turned around and looked at Wilson, surprised at his tone.

"You think we shouldn't tell her? Last I knew, they were engaged."

Wilson stood up.

"I don't think YOU should be the one to tell her."

"You think I can't be compassionate enough when I tell her that her boyfriend's dead." It was a statement more than a question.

"That's exactly what I think."

"So who tells her?"

"I do."

Without another word, Wilson turned and walked out of the office.

"Let him go," Cuddy said quietly.

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"Hey, Wilson," Cameron greeted with a smile. "Do you want to grab lunch with me?"

Her smile faded a little bit when she saw how flustered he was. He looked around the crowded hallway as though he were lost and confused.

"I…uh…actually, Allison, I need to talk to you."

"Wilson, what's going on?"

"Come to my office. Please."

She nodded, tension and anxiety invading the pit of her stomach, tying it up in knots and making her want to run for the nearest bathroom. But instead she focused on Wilson as he led her down the hall and into his office.

"Sit. Please."

She sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, startled when he did the same. Shifting until he was facing her, he leaned his forearms on his knees and cleared his throat.

"Wilson, you're scaring me"

"There was…an accident," he said, giving her a sympathetic look.

"An accident?"

"A drunk driver hit Chase."

Cameron stood up immediately, knocking her chair backwards.

"Where is he? I need to go see him. I –"

Wilson stood up slowly, taking a hold of her shoulders.

"Cameron…you can't."

"Get out of my way!" she demanded, tears escaping her eyes. "I have to go see him. You can't keep me –"

"Cameron, stop!" he urged. Then he softened his voice. "He was DOA, Cameron. There was nothing they could do."

She shook her head. "No. No, that can't be right. He was just going out to pick up his dry cleaning."

"I'm sorry, Allison."

"Please," she begged. "Please."

"I'm so sorry."

He pulled her tight against his chest as her sobs overcame her. Running a gentle hand through her hair, he tried to whisper comforting words in her ear, but they all sounded hollow. She clung to him, her body shaking with the force of her cries. Her knees gave way and they sank to the floor, Wilson rocking her back and forth.

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"I'm worried about her," Foreman stated bluntly after Cameron left the room to run some tests on their patient.

"Her lover is dead. So I think your anxiety is merited," House pointed out.

Foreman shook his head. "You're an asshole."

"What? It's a statement of fact. You want me to sugarcoat it up for you? I'd never say it in front of her. But I'm not exactly worried about YOUR feelings."

"Have you even asked her how she is?"

"Have you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"And what did she say?"

"That she was fine."

"So see? Why should I ask her when she's just going to lie to me?"

"Because that's what friends do, House."

"Since when are you her friend?" he asked. "I happen to recall you telling her that you were nothing more than colleagues."

"I was wrong. I can admit that. Unlike some other people I know."

"Gasp. Was that a not-so-subtle barb aimed at me?"

Foreman shook his head and stood up.

"It's more than just Chase's death, House. I don't know what it is, and I doubt that she'll open up to me. But I'm worried about her."

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"I'm worried about her."

House glared at Wilson as they sat in his office.

"Not you too."

"What? You're actually upset with me for being worried about a friend?"

House waved his hand at him dismissively.

"Oh, since when have you two been friends?"

"For quite awhile now, actually."

"Whatever. It's only been a month. She'll get over it."

"Get over it?" Wilson scoffed. "The man she loved is DEAD, House. That's not something you just get over."

He sighed. "I guess you're right. She's a bleeding heart type, too, so this will probably drag on for months."

"I cannot believe you just said that."

House looked at him uncomfortably.

"Look, I didn't mean it that way. It's just…I can see how much she's hurting. It's killing her. I know that. But I can't say anything that will make her feel better. There's nothing I can do for her."

"So instead of trying, you're just going to ignore her?"

"I'm not ignoring her. I'm simply refusing to talk about anything other than work."

"Yeah, that's a plan." Wilson sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I know she's grieving, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something deeper going on."

House looked at him sharply. "Foreman said the same thing."

"Have you really looked at her lately? She's walking around like a zombie. Her work isn't suffering from what I can see, but it's in those little moments when she's not doing anything, when she's just walking down the hall. You can see it in her eyes."

"That's very poetic."

"I'm serious, House."

"Then why don't you talk to her? She'd probably open up to you faster than she would Foreman or me. I know she wouldn't open up to Cuddy."

"She's always thought Cuddy was too soft on taking moral stands."

"Cameron thinks everyone is soft on moral stands."

"And usually rightfully so."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Alright, get out."

"What? What did I do this time?"

"Nothing. But I want to talk to Cameron, and this is the most private place I have. So get out."

"Fine," House muttered as he stood up. "But I want the juicy details later."

"Yeah. Why don't you go hold your breath and wait for that to happen?"

"Spoilsport."

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"Cameron!"

She stopped and turned to see who was calling her name. At the sight of Wilson, she mustered up a small smile for him.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey," he replied. "How are you?"

She shrugged. "I'm getting by."

"Come have lunch with me."

"What?"

"Please. We can eat in my office. It's nicer than the cafeteria."

"I don't know…"

"I have Jell-O for dessert," he told her, wiggling his eyebrows.

Her smile grew just a little.

"What flavor?"

"Cherry."

"Alright then. I'm there."

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They talked about work, and the weather, and how House had almost killed a patient earlier in the week. Neither knew how to approach the reason Wilson had really invited her over, so they simply skirted the issue. But he noticed that as much as she smiled at him, she never laughed – not even when he made fun of House. He found himself suddenly missing that laugh, afraid that it would be a long time before he heard it again.

"Are we ready for dessert?" he asked as they finished up their lunches.

"I think we are. Here, let me help you."

As she stood up and reached over the desk, her arm brushed up against a mug filled with pens and pencils. It went crashing to the ground, spilling its contents all across the carpet. A piece chipped off the handle as it knocked against the corner of the desk, leaving a small white spot against the black of the mug.

Cameron stared at the mess for half a minute before bursting into tears.

Wilson stared at her in shock, a cup of cherry-flavored Jell-O in each hand. Looking around desperately, he set them on his desk and moved toward her, taking her in his arms.

"Shhh…Cameron, it's alright."

She shook her head against his shoulder.

"It's not alright," she objected. "It will never be alright."

"I know it's hard. I know that you miss him –"

"I'm pregnant," she whispered.

Everything stopped then. He felt her tense in his arms and he tightened his hold, lowering them both to the floor. The scene was so like the one a month ago, that a heady sense of déjà vu washed over him. He told himself that this should be different – they should be celebrating, not mourning. But then he remembered who the father was. Chase should have been there with them, celebrating and laughing and smiling. Instead, he and Cameron were alone, left there to pick up the pieces.

"Wilson?"

His eyes refocused on her, her tear-stained face looking up at him.

"I was just thinking," he said.

"About what?"

"About how happy he would be."

She nodded then, leaning her head against his chest as tears silently streamed down her face again.

"I can't do this, Wilson. Not without him. Not alone."

"You're no alone, Allison," he assured her. "You will never be alone, I promise you that."

She pulled back slightly, frowning at him.

"And who's going to help me? Foreman? Cuddy. _House_?"

"You've got me."

Her laugh was hollow.

"You have a life of your own."

"And now you have a life growing inside you," he countered. "We're your friends, Cameron. Let us help you."

"Friends?" she scoffed. "House does nothing but break me down. Foreman told me point blank that we were not friends. And Cuddy…we can't stand each other."

"Then let _me_ help you."

"Why?"

"Because…because I want to. Because I care about you. You're my friend, Cameron. Let me help you. Please."

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Have you seen a doctor yet?"

She nodded.

"I had to know for sure, one way or another."

"When did you find out?"

"Two weeks ago."

"And you've been holding it in all this time?"

She shrugged.

"I didn't know who to turn to."

He held her closer, rocking her back and forth, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You have me, Allison. We'll figure this out. And we'll make sure that that baby knows who its father was and how much he would have loved it. We'll tell it how wonderful he was and how happy he made you."

"How did you know I was going to keep it?"

"I saw it in your eyes," he said quietly. "You already love this baby with all of your heart."

"It's like I have a part of him."

"You do, Cameron. You do."


End file.
